


Fate Would Have It

by JSinister32



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU different first meeting, Bottom Will Graham, Cute notes, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter Loves Coffee, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Miscommunication, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, They Both Probably Love Coffee More, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Loves Coffee, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29530506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSinister32/pseuds/JSinister32
Summary: Will Graham, scourge of the FBI, is tired, overworked and despondent.  His workload has gotten the best of him, and until he can close the case he's been assigned, he knows he won't get any rest.While wandering Baltimore, he stumbles into a coffee shop with the desperate hope that they'll be able to help him stay awake long enough to finish his work.  What he never expected to find was friendship, laughter, and the arms of a man who can keep his demons at bay.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 51
Kudos: 125





	1. At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to Makita94 with warm and fluffy hugs. Thank you for always being so wonderful, darling. I hope I bring back some good memories of your barista days 🤍

_Fate is what happens to us_  
_While we are busy making other plans._

* * *

Will Graham was tired. In fact, tired in its traditional definition didn’t quite encompass the level of exhaustion that had seeped into his bones over the past few weeks. Between taking over the profiling lectures for the narcotics team handling the largest cocaine bust since Pablo Escobar was at the height of his power, and the recent string of murders two states over that Jack had him chasing every evening, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a decent night’s sleep, let alone managed to show up to work without wrinkles in his shirts and grey smudges beneath his eyes. Working himself to the bone was fine, but insomnia was a cruel bitch that punished him swiftly when he did.

Over the past four days, he’d tried everything to get some rest. Long walks in the evening left him more energized than tired. Shutting down his mind for brief spans of time so he could concentrate on moving his body made him more clear headed, but when he went to sleep at night, he still just laid there, thinking about the long list of tasks he had to complete the following day. Meditation was horse shit. Anyone who tried to convince him that he could clear his mind had never stepped foot on a crime scene. There were no happy thoughts that could completely remove the images of blood, no chakra that could be cleared and release the ghosts that clung to him so readily. Healthy eating could only last so long when he spent so much of his days running around after killers. Cold showers in the morning to try and shock himself awake lasted a little while, but by the time he made it to the office, the effects had more than often worn away in his exhaustion with other drivers. _Sometimes, there_ _’s just no rest for the weary._

At least it still felt like he was making a difference. The narcotics team was slowly tightening their noose, and the killings were beginning to show a pattern. Soon, he’d have a handle on his cases again, and seeing the sun when he left the office would once again become a possibility. _Just gotta muscle through until then. Not much longer now and everything will break open like it always does._

Some nights took more convincing than others.

The night he rediscovered coffee just happened to be one of those nights. Will sat in his office long past the time everyone else seemed to have disappeared, his thoughts melting away at the edges as he tried to concentrate on the task that would release him from the purgatory of mandatory paperwork. The mountain of files he still needed to complete sat precariously in a pile on one side of his desk, threatening to topple to the floor at any moment if he so much as breathed in its direction. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, wishing he’d remembered to bring something for dinner. The vending machines downstairs would provide him with any number of packaged meals; sterile wrappings holding within them enough tasteless fuel to keep him going for the next hour or so, but the weeks that had passed since taking on his caseload had long since depleted his tolerance for such things. At that moment, he would have rather eaten the wrapping than the stuff contained within any of them. Stopping also seemed out of the question, though. If he took a longer than needed break in the middle of what he was doing, he would need to gather the energy to start again. _As if it wasn_ _’t difficult enough the first time. Or the second._ Will sighed and took another folder from the pile, ignoring the pangs in his stomach. _Nothing to do but wait it out. They'll fade if I just keep at it._

It took another hour for him to realize he wasn’t making any headway. The stack was only two files smaller and his brain felt as if it were trying to pound its way out of his head. The words on the pages before him swam, only coming into focus if he squinted, which made his head hurt worse. Will ran a hand through his hair and stretched back in his chair until it popped, the sound like muffled gunshots in the hushed quiet of his office. _Christ, when did my life become nothing but murder and paperwork? When this is over_ _… maybe I need a break._

The thought startled him. He didn’t often feel the weariness his job brought down upon him; tonight it sat there, a weight in the center of his chest. So many bodies, too many lectures, all stretching him too thin for him to have any semblance of life outside of the Bureau. He needed a trip, some time to fish and think about how much longer he’d be able to keep up with the pace that was now so often demanded of him. Will shook his head, trying to clear the dismal thoughts that seemed to cling like cobwebs to his psyche. _Christ man, don_ _’t get maudlin. You just need something to eat, and a good night’s sleep. Everything will be better after that._ Staring dismally at the open file before him, he sighed and stood, grabbing his coat before he could change his mind.

A little fresh air and some real food would help. Glancing at the time illuminated on his watch, Will snorted. _That is if I can find anything open that_ _’s worth eating at this hour._

_***_

He wandered out onto the street that bordered the Bureau’s main building, his eyes drifting over the establishments that sat closest to its entrance. There were a few retail stores he’d never had the mind to notice before; a place that sold greeting cards and stationary, a large sporting goods store, and several clothing shops. He walked down the street, keeping an eye out for anything that looked as if it might sell food, but the longer he meandered, the more his heart sank. Most of the restaurants were beginning to close for the evening; the last thing he wanted to do was make someone else late to get home just to service his needs. He walked past a bar, music blaring noisily from it as the door swung open for a moment, emitting the ghostly scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Without glancing at the patrons that emerged, he hurried along, his eyes already searching along the row of buildings.

It was on the next street over that he found it. It took him a moment to make sense of the sign that had caught his eye; a large neon cup flashed, illuminating letters to spell out the name of the establishment: The Grind. Small but brightly lit, the coffee shop sat between a used bookstore and a flower shop, the wooden door propped open invitingly. The scent of coffee and fresh baked goods drew late evening patrons from the street in droves; the line was out the door and onto the sidewalk. Will stood on the other side of the road, watching as customers disappeared through the door, emerging with steaming cups that smelled so good, his mouth began to water. He didn’t often indulge in caffeine; it was difficult enough for him to think without adding any kind of stimulant to the mix, but the thought of a cup of coffee and some kind of sugary pastry was too good to pass up. Without another thought, Will crossed the road and joined the queue.

Although long, the line moved far more quickly than he had anticipated. He’d been standing with the throng for less than ten minutes and had already reached the doors when he realized he had no idea what he was going to order. A normal cup of black coffee seemed like a wasted opportunity when everyone emerging had something far more delectable in their cups. He could smell chocolate and hazelnut as they drifted past; one even smelled so strongly of peppermint, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to sneeze. He took a look at the boards behind the bustling workers, but everything listed may as well have been written in Greek. _What the hell is the difference between a cappuccino and a latte?_ The closer he got to the front of the line, the more nervous he became. _Shit, maybe this was a bad idea. Should have just had something from the machines._

Four customers from the head of the line, Will pulled out his phone and discreetly began to Google different drink types.

By the time he got to the counter, Will had broken out into a light perspiration. A tall girl with jet black hair and a friendly smile greeted him from the register, her pen poised next to a sticker pad.

“Hi there,” she said brightly. “What can I get you?” Will swallowed, unsure of what to say. He glanced up at the menu, hoping to see a word he recognized, but everything blurred together.

“Um-” The girl looked up, dark eyes taking in the profiler’s obvious discomfort. She set down the pen and leaned slightly over the counter.

“First time here?” she asked softly. He’d nodded, his face flushing an embarrassed red. 

“Yeah… I’m not big on coffee to be honest,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “But I’ve got a ton of work to do and I need-”

“Say no more. We can make you something special. Do you like chocolate?” He nodded. “How about caramel?” He nodded again, relief replacing the worry in his stomach.

“That doesn’t really sound like ingredients for coffee though,” he laughed. The girl only grinned and continued to write.

“Trust me. I’ve been at this long enough to help anyone who comes through those doors. Did you need anything else?” Will eyed the baked goods, his stomach betraying him with a rumble. Without a word, she opened the case and selected a large, buttery croissant, slipping it into a bag before handing it over to him.

“No charge on the food,” she whispered conspiratorially. “It will be our secret.” Will’s grin threatened to split his face.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get you in any kind of trouble.” The barista laughed, gesturing to a picture that stood behind the counter, showing her standing in front of the building, a cup of coffee and a business license clutched triumphantly in her hands. The grin on her face lit her up from within.

“I don’t think the owner will mind. I hear she’s pretty generous when the right circumstances wander into her coffee shop.” She winked and rang him up for the coffee and sent him down the counter to wait. Will peered into the bag at his pastry, his cheeks flushed with pleasure. He had to admit the night was already a little brighter.

“Chocolate Red-Eye with caramel for Will?” called the barista making drinks. Will stepped forward and picked up the large cup, marveling at its weight. _Jesus, what did they put in here? Gold?_

“Careful with that,” the barista warned, her green eyes sparkling behind the maroon cat eye glasses perched on her nose. “It’s loaded with caffeine and we really don’t want your heart to explode.” Will’s eyes widened fractionally. He eyed the cup clutched in his hand with trepidation.

“What did I order?” he asked uncomfortably. The barista smirked and pumped syrup into the next cup.

“I take it Katie came up with one of her special concoctions for you,” she replied. “Not to worry. It’s a Red-Eye with chocolate syrup blended in and caramel drizzle on the bottom and top.” Will was still staring at the cup, wondering if this was the best idea.

“What’s a red eye, exactly?” he inquired, taking a whiff from the lid. 

“Oh, regular coffee with two shots of espresso,” she explained, eyeing him as she pulled another shot of dark espresso. “Enough to get you through whatever you have on your plate from the night, and by the looks, you probably need it.” Will smiled tiredly.

“That obvious, is it?” The girl nodded, her bright red curls bouncing around her face.

“You look dead on your feet,” she murmured, topping off the next drink with milk. The next patron took his coffee and made his way to the door without a glance back. She gestured to the cup with her free hand as she picked up the next cup.

“Try it,” she urged. “If you don’t like it, we can make you something else.” Will glanced down the counter to find Katie watching him, a curious expression on her face. Hesitantly, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a small sip. His eyes widened, a small sound escaping his throat as he took another, longer drink from the cup.

The baristas grinned at one another.

“Holy shit,” he moaned when he swallowed. “This is-” Both women burst into laughter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look at a cup of coffee as if it were everything,” giggled Katie. “I’m happy you two have become acquainted.” Will blushed and took another sip without replying.

“Thanks, ladies,” he finally replied. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had to drink. Probably ever.” 

“I guess we will see you in here once in a while,” Katie joked, placing a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Marina keeps a decent track of our regulars, so I’ll have to write down what you order.” Will took another sip from his cup.

“Yeah, that’s actually not a bad idea,” he muttered. “I’ll never remember what you put in it, and end up pointing at my cup and grunting until you fill it with this.” They both grinned.

“On that note, I should probably head back to the office. Thank you again.” Katie nodded.

“Sure thing, sir. We hope to see you again.” Will wandered back out into the street and slipped the pastry from the bag, eating it shamelessly between sips of coffee. By the time he made it back to the Bureau, he felt better than he had in weeks, and completed his work in record time, making it home just as the clock chimed one. Even with the caffeine he’d consumed, Will fell asleep with no effort, and slept through the night, untroubled by dreams.

***

Hannibal Lecter pinched the bridge of his nose and summoned every scrap of self control remaining to him in an attempt to keep from shaking the man seated across from him. Franklyn was a nice enough man, but so neurotic, the psychiatrist had a difficult time contending with his fidgety need for reassurance on the best of days. When running on so little sleep, it was almost impossible for him to keep his temper.

“I understand you need some time to process this loss, Franklyn,” he murmured, making a small, meaningless note on the pad of paper he kept perched on his knee. “In the end, it will be for the best for both you and Matthew. Neither of you has been happy for quite some time.” The man before him shivered and reached for another tissue, placing the ragged clump of paper he’d already soaked with tears beside him on the end table next to his chair. Hannibal stared at it and tried to push aside his rising contempt. _Pitiful excuse for a human being,_ he seethed. _Not even enough time for a decent cup of coffee and here I am, listening to his woes. As if he doesn_ _’t already have an appointment scheduled next week. This could have waited._

“I don’t know what to do, Doctor Lecter,” the man before him moaned. “He was everything to me, and since I can’t seem to get over my neurotic behavior, he’s leaving me. Just like everyone else does.” Hannibal suppressed a sigh.

“I know that is how you feel now, but in time, the ache will ease,” he replied as gently as he could muster. “Give yourself the weekend, and we can discuss this at your regular appointment next week.” He set aside the pad of paper and stood, gesturing towards the door. Franklyn got to his feet and glanced towards the clock, then at the door suspiciously.

“I thought you left this time open for emergency sessions, Hannibal,” he accused. “Matthew broke my heart. I need advice, and don’t want to be ushered to the door like a dirty secret!” A thundering silence followed his proclamation. Any warmth that was left within Hannibal’s startling maroon and gold gaze drained away, leaving behind eyes as cold as winter skies.

“You aren’t being sent away,” he replied flatly. “You have been here for over an hour, and we have made no progress. I am not your friend, Franklyn. I am your psychiatrist. This is not an emergency situation, merely one you are ill equipped to handle.” He took the other man’s elbow and guided him none too gently towards the exit. He opened the door and ushered his patient through, pausing once he’d been deposited on the other side.

“I appreciate your situation, Mr. Froideveaux. However, next time you claim to have an emergency at seven in the morning on a Saturday, it had better be something requiring my attention. We will discuss this further at your usual appointment on Wednesday. Until then, please restrict yourself from attempting to obtain my services on any other day. Good day.” Before the other man could reply, Hannibal closed the door with a snap. He leaned into the door to listen, remaining where he was until he heard Franklyn’s footsteps moving down the short hall. The doctor moved to the chair where the other man had resided and used a metal ruler to scrape the tissues he’d used into a small trash can. _It is far too early in the morning to be dealing with such nonsense,_ he mused wearily. _Perhaps, it is time for Franklyn to find himself another therapist, especially if he can_ _’t contain his histrionics to my normal hours of practice._

Once his office was clean, Hannibal donned his coat and locked the door to his office. Instead of making his way to his car, he turned onto the street on which his business was located, soaking in the quiet before the storm of shoppers that would be taking advantage of the beautiful day to come. Although weary to the bone, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go home and sleep. He still had a paper due to the Journal of Psychology by the end of the week, and he’d barely begun his edits. Although he didn’t bring it with him, fuel and a little caffeine would kick start the process when he returned home, and he knew just the place.

Baltimore had proved to be a challenge for good coffee. He had spent time in countries renowned for their brews; the US was still in its infancy when it came to mastering the craft. The first few times he had ventured out into the city in search of caffeine, he was sorely disappointed. He spent a month lamenting his experiences in Italy and attempting his hand at brewing for the dozenth time. Making coffee at home, though enjoyable, was an often tedious chore that he hadn’t mastered beyond the most rudimentary techniques. Although skilled in the kitchen, he had a tendency to ruin every cup of coffee he attempted to make, and relegated himself to the talents of others when he was craving such things. The Grind hadn’t been open long, but upon his first visit to the quaint establishment, he’d fallen in love with the friendly efficiency of its employees and their keen, extensive knowledge of their craft. They managed to get his order right every time and best of all, it was right around the corner from his practice.

The line that morning left something to be desired. Although grateful the little shop was making a name for itself, thus increasing its likelihood to survive, Hannibal was far too tired and irritated with Franklyn to deal with the inconvenience. Had it not been for the scent of pastries already wafting through the open door, he would have gone home to collect his paper and come back at another hour. _But they_ _’ve made chocolate croissants. Either Katie is attempting to draw every person with a sweet tooth into the building, or she had another one of her uncanny intuitions that I would be by this morning._ With a wry almost smile, he crossed the street and joined the queue.

When faced with an activity that should have brought on boredom, Hannibal let himself indulge in one of his favorite pastimes: people watching. It was no difficult stretch of the imagination to postulate the mood of many of the patrons exiting the building, and while in line for his coffee, Hannibal got to experience an extra bit of sleuthing by attempting to guess each of their drinks. His refined palate and overwhelmingly sensitive olfactory senses allowed him to get to know others from a distance; caffeinated beverage conjecture made it more ideal. He was there so often that he’d begun to stereotype others based off the ingredients in their drinks; those who felt they had something to prove to the coffee world almost always ordered black drip, the men and women who worked within the hospital around the corner indulged in sugary blended concoctions with extra shots, while those who actually enjoyed the taste of coffee had something that showcased the notes in the beans, like an Americano or latte. 

Hannibal himself tended to stick to cappuccinos with a little chocolate drizzle over the top. Much to his initial surprise, the drizzle usually formed some kind of exquisite design, making his experiences there all the more pleasant. Another pair of patrons passed, a hazelnut latte and Americano clutched in their grip. Hannibal inhaled delightedly. _This is the perfect place to be, and exactly what I need to set myself up right for the rest of the day._

Just as he reached the entrance, the door to the left slammed open and a curly haired man plunged through, sliding as if he had slipped. In his hands were clutched a large, potent drink and a pastry bag. Hannibal didn’t have time to guess the drink; he reached forward and braced the other man in his arms, narrowly preventing what would have likely been a trip to the emergency room. The coffee hit the ground and exploded upward, the bag fell and was crushed beneath the stranger’s feet as he tried to regain his balance. The man in question was panting hard, his limbs shaking with the adrenaline coursing through his system at the near miss. Hannibal held him around the waist, waiting until he got his feet beneath him before loosening his grip.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The other man panted, but nodded his ascent.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think, anyway.” The stranger stood on shaking legs, straightening his jacket. He looked down at the mess of spilled coffee, his croissant smashed beneath his panicked feet. He sighed and turned to Hannibal with a tired smile.

The moment their eyes met, Hannibal’s entire world went still. He didn’t just forget to breathe; it was if his heart ceased beating altogether. The man he’d saved wasn’t just attractive; he was beautiful. The mess of curls the psychiatrist had first noticed were a soft chestnut brown, framing a delicately featured face with a stubbled jawline that could cut glass. But it was his eyes; the deep, piercingly blue of his gaze from which Hannibal couldn’t bring himself to turn. _God on high, I could get lost within the blue of your eyes for days._

He cleared his throat, his face flushed when he realized he’d been staring. The stranger brushed his hand down the front of the deep grey sweater he was wearing, checking to make sure he hadn’t gotten anything on his clothing. When he finished the sweep, he met Hannibal’s gaze with a small smile. They’d stepped out of line, the gawkers now far inside and ordering their own drinks.

“It looks like I owe you one,” the stranger murmured, gesturing to the back of the line. “Can I buy your coffee, seeing as you saved me a trip to the ER?” Hannibal returned the smile and relearned how to breathe.

“You’re far too kind. I’d be happy to wait with you, but buying my order isn’t necessary.” The other man laughed and started off towards the end of the line.

“It’s the least I can do-” his voice trailed off.

“Hannibal,” the doctor provided, holding out his hand. “Hannibal Lecter.” The stranger smiled and took his hand. Hannibal tried to ignore the sudden wave of pleasure that cascaded up his arm.

“Will Graham. It’s nice to meet you, Hannibal. Thank you for sweeping me off my feet.” 


	2. Friendly Banter

Hannibal couldn’t remember the last time his morning had been so pleasantly eventful; the man at his side proved to be quite the conversationalist. Once they repositioned themselves at the end of the line, Hannibal turned back to the blue, blue eyes of his unexpected companion and smiled, all the while attempting to still the wild thrashing of his heart. _If only you weren_ _’t quite so decadently handsome. Gods alive, those eyes._

“You seem rather exhausted,” he remarked, silently congratulating himself on the steadiness of his voice. “Are you absolutely certain a stimulant is what you should be ingesting?” Will laughed good naturedly and nodded, running a hand through the unruly delight of his curls.

“I just finished with my workload for the week, which somehow took me close to 24 hours. If I want to make it home without falling asleep behind the wheel, I need something with caffeine and sugar. Preferably a great deal of both.” Hannibal wrinkled his nose at a passing couple, both clutching drinks so laced with syrup, it was a shock they could taste the delight of the house-roasted beans at all.

“Please tell me you don’t order something similar to that,” he replied, directing his head discreetly to the passing couple. Will glanced back, his gaze far more observant than Hannibal expected. _Some kind of analyst perhaps. Someone used to taking in the finer details._

The thought sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“They’re both professional, likely out for a quick bite before heading either to the hospital around the corner or into the office for a weekend meeting,” Will commented offhandedly, his eyes still watching the retreating pair. “I didn’t notice anything unusual about their drinks, though. Care to share?” Hannibal’s respect for the man at his side climbed another notch.

“May I confess to you a game I like to play when I visit this establishment?” Will’s eyes sparkled in the bright light of the early morning.

“You make a game of people watching? Sounds fascinating. Explain it to me.” The interest and enthusiasm in his voice warmed Hannibal to his toes. He nodded and waited for the next patrons to pass with their drinks. He took a breath, inhaling the bittersweet scent of coffee mingled with caramel and chocolate, white chocolate draped delicately over the top of espresso and steamed milk, and rich hazelnut. Turning back to his companion, he smiled; a small lift to the corner of his mouth that made his eyes crinkle.

“I can discern what comprises the drinks in each cup,” he explained. “For example, the trio that just passed have a hazelnut latte with soy… no, almond milk, a white chocolate mocha, and a cappuccino with caramel drizzle. The drinks themselves, however, are not the game. I like to profile the patrons based on their preferred choice in coffee.” Will gazed at him, clearly impressed.

“You got all of that just by them walking by? You can tell what they’re drinking… how, exactly?” Hannibal’s smile only grew.

“I have an overwhelmingly acute sense of smell,” the doctor confessed. Will raised an eyebrow.

“How acute?” Hannibal inhaled. The cedar and salt combination of Will’s aftershave hit him like a tsunami; the masculine scent made his mouth water. He wanted to chase the scent on the man’s skin to its source, press his nose to the crook oh his neck, the sharp line of his jaw. Before he could embarrass himself, he cleared his throat and schooled his features to keep the traitorous thoughts from his face.

“I can tell you that while you do not enjoy it, you apply aftershave almost every day, even when you choose not to shave. It has been at least 18 hours since you’ve seen the inside of your house; the scent is almost completely gone from your skin. You washed your hair two days ago, but you bathe every day. The clothes you are wearing were last laundered about a week ago, however this is the first time they’ve been worn since then.” Will whistled. Hannibal’s stomach suddenly sank. _I_ _’ve said too much. Embarrassed him. And just when things were going so well-_

“Holy shit. that’s incredible,” Will laughed. The knots in Hannibal’s stomach loosened slightly. “I’d love to say any part of that is inaccurate, but I’ll be honest. You’re actually spot on.” Another couple passed, clutching cups of Americano and two everything bagels that had been baked fresh that morning.

“What were those two drinking?” Hannibal couldn’t keep the small smile from his face.

“Americanos. Nothing exciting as an addition I’m afraid, although it seems they also purchased fresh bagels if that counts.” Will laughed again.

“Christ, what a party trick. So much wouldn’t be able to get past you. I bet you’d be killer in an interrogation room.” Hannibal glanced over, startled, but Will was studying the menu, a dreamy happiness painted across his features. They unconsciously leaned closer together, their shoulders brushing as the line moved steadily forward.

“Interrogation?” Will nodded, meeting the other man’s eyes briefly before returning his gaze to the menu.

“I guess that’s kind of an odd thing to say, especially to someone you just met. You’ll have to forgive me. No sleep, remember?” Hannibal inclined his head.

“May I ask what brought that specific imagery to mind?” Will ran a hand through his hair.

“My own line of work, I suppose. I teach at the FBI academy down the street,” he clarified at Hannibal’s confused stare. “I am also something of a profiler on cases the Bureau can’t crack. Specialized, you could say.” Hannibal’s stomach tightened pleasantly. _Law enforcement, but a specialized breed. How utterly unexpected._

“Ahh. With what types of cases do you assist, may I ask?” Will’s face closed almost imperceptibly; had Hannibal not been watching, he would have missed the shift in his features entirely. “I didn’t mean to pry-” Will waved him off.

“No, I understand the interest,” he replied, but he didn’t continue; his eyes remained guarded. To his great surprise, Hannibal realized they had finally reached the front of the line. He had been so caught up in their conversation, he hadn’t been paying attention and the line dissolved as if in an instant. W _hen was the last time you so lost yourself in another that you_ _’ve been completely unaware of your surroundings?_

Katie, looking as tired as Will felt, continued writing on the cup in her hands as she greeted them.

“Hi, welcome in. What can I getcha?” she asked without looking up.

“You know I can never remember my order,” Will replied with a laugh. The barista glanced up in surprise.

“Will!” she exclaimed, her voice coming out as confused as she looked. “Weren’t you just in here, or am I hallucinating again?” Will grinned and shook his head. Their obvious familiarity brought a lump to the doctor’s throat. _A regular to the shop, then. Interesting that we have not crossed paths until today._

“Not a hallucination. I tripped on my way out the door and lost my coffee. Smashed my croissant, too. Had it not been for this gentleman catching me-” Katie’s eyes followed Will’s gesturing hand, her own coming to her mouth as she gasped delightedly.

“Doctor Lecter! How nice to see you so early on a Saturday! Was it the smell of chocolate or the freshly roasted beans from this morning?” Hannibal smiled, his cheeks flushed with pleasure.

“I see I’m not Katie’s only favorite regular,” Will remarked wryly, his eyes filling with playful mischief. Hannibal’s color deepened to a blush, burning across the back of his neck.

“I think you will find that the only favorite standing before her is me, Will,” the doctor retorted. “You are here by coincidence, and she cannot be rude to customers.” Will’s laugh rang out through the shop, drawing many curious eyes to where they stood.

“I’m pretty sure I’m her favorite, Hannibal. I’m in here far more often than you.” Hannibal couldn’t keep the grin from his face; Will was like a puppy tugging at a shoelace. _Play with me,_ his eyes seemed to say. _Have a little fun._

“We have yet to discuss the frequency in which we visit this establishment,” Hannibal replied airily. “I believe that you’d find I’m in line at least as often as you.”

Katie watched the exchange, pleasure pooling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced over at Marina, who had stopped what she was doing to watch the spirited argument. Their eyes met, a silent conversation passing between them.

_Can you believe these two just met? What are the odds?_

_No, but can you imagine a cuter couple?_

_God, please let that happen. We could post a story about them on the website; the handsome FBI agent and his psychiatrist, falling in love over the smell of roasting coffee beans and chocolate._

_Just murder me now, Katie. Let me die in happiness._

_No. Not until we_ _’re invited to their wedding._

Clearing her throat, Katie turned back to the two men; their good natured argument had continued throughout the silent exchange with her partner. 

“I believe I can settle this for you, gentlemen,” she announced over their discussion. “I have absolutely no doubt that neither of you will be surprised to find that you are both my favorites. As such, I won’t be charging either of you for your order.” Will’s eyes widened.

“No, it’s perfectly fine-” Katie shook her head adamantly.

“My shop, my rules. I will hear nothing else about it. Would you like your usual, Doctor?” Hannibal nodded his ascent.

“With a chocolate croissant if you still have some left,” he replied hopefully. Katie walked to the counter to retrieve their pastries, only to turn back moments later.

“I’m afraid I do have to disappoint one of you” she murmured apologetically. “It looks like I only have one chocolate croissant left, but I have plenty of almond. Which one of you is getting the chocolate?” Will glanced over at Hannibal; indecision and desire laced through the other man’s features. _He wants the chocolate, but is too polite to voice his request._ Something about the look on the doctor’s face sent sparks of happy anticipation dancing through his stomach.

“Would you settle for going halves?” Will ventured. Hannibal visibly relaxed.

“That would suit just fine. I’ve been looking forward to this my entire walk here. Thank you, Will.”

“No problem. I’d offer you the whole thing, but… chocolate.” Hannibal nodded, his eyes shiny with humor. 

“I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Katie filled out their cups with a grin. _God, they_ _’re just so cute. It’s better than a romance novel._

“Perfect. Please take a seat, gentlemen. We’ll call one of your names when your order is ready.” Will thanked her again and dropped a significant tip into the jar by the register before following Hannibal to a small table by the window. He settled comfortably in his seat with a sigh. Hannibal followed suit, taking the time to unwind his scarf from his neck and remove his coat before taking his seat. Will watched his every movement, taking in the other man’s effortless elegance; the way he moved and dressed were enough to make Will weak in the knees. _Christ he_ _’s attractive. And likely straight as an arrow. Get it together, man. Don’t try for more than he will be willing to offer you. You might just walk out of this with a friend._

“I love this place,” Will murmured as Hannibal settled into his chair. “Every time I’m in here, I’ve had nothing but kindness from the workers, not to mention they make fantastic coffee.” Hannibal nodded in agreement, letting his eyes trail over the peaceful visage of his companion.

“I have had similar experiences,” he replied as he leaned back to stretch out his long legs beneath the table. His leg brushed against Will’s; he hesitated for a moment, ready to move it, but when Will didn’t pull back, he left it where it was, enjoying the gentle contact. “I often find myself here when I have had a particularly trying morning and am in desperate need of a pick me up.” Will leaned his elbows into the table, resting his chin in the palm of one hand. Hannibal caught another whiff of his aftershave; his heart thudded wildly against his ribs as he tried to breathe discreetly, cataloging the scent away in his memory.

“I’m much the same,” the profiler confessed. “I actually wandered in here one night when nothing else was open. I don’t know anything about coffee, and it showed. Katie took pity on me, and I’ve been coming ever since.” Hannibal nodded thoughtfully.

“You were mentioning that you teach for the Bureau, and consult on cases they are unable to solve,” he ventured. “That seems like a workload worthy of a significant amount of caffeine.” Will groaned good naturedly.

“Christ, you have no idea. I don’t normally mind the work load, but I’m currently assisting with a unit outside of my own, on top of the classes I’d normally teach.”

“May I ask-”

“Will!” Marina’s voice carried across the coffee shop, her rich red curls bouncing as she shouted. “I’ve got your stuff, but I’d send the doctor so you don’t lose your coffee again!” A tittering spread through the shop at the obvious jab; Hannibal stood with a smile, inclining his head to the man across from him.

“I do believe she doesn’t wish to make your drink a third time today,” he remarked wryly. “Give me a moment and I shall collect our order.” Will grinned and nodded.

“Sure. Thanks for that.” Hannibal could feel Will’s eyes follow him as he crossed to the counter. _Surely he is simply watching for my safety. There can be nothing to it._ He reached the small area where the baristas placed their completed orders, nodding to the two women as he collected the tray they’d put together.

“Thank you so much, ladies. This looks wonderful.” Katie and Marina grinned at one another; Katie’s arm found its way around Marina’s waist. The two girls leaned together happily.

“No problem, Doctor Lecter. Let us know if you or Will need anything else.” Hannibal’s face flushed as he made his way back across the room to where his companion sat waiting. He placed the tray carefully onto the table before he slid into his seat once more. Will took his cup gratefully, inhaling the rich scent of coffee, chocolate and caramel before taking a fortifying sip. The sound of pleasure that broke from his throat cut through Hannibal’s senses, making his scalp tingle. _If that is what you sound like with something as mundane as coffee, what noises would you make in other situations?_

“God, this is exactly what I needed,” Will moaned into his cup. Hannibal smiled into his own drink and slid the plate containing his halves of each croissant in front of him; Katie had kindly taken the liberty of distributing them evenly so they wouldn’t have to. Lifting the end of the almond pastry to his lips, he took a bite. They ate and drank in companionable silence for several minutes before Will cleared his throat.

“So, what kind of doctor are you?” Hannibal took another small sip of his coffee.

“I’m a psychiatrist.” Will’s eyes widened. “Please don’t let that frighten you,” Hannibal went on hastily. “I have not been sitting here, analyzing your responses during our conversation. I reserve such things for paying clients, only.” His companion’s laugh lanced through his senses, sank deep into his bones.

“I can imagine it would be difficult, though,” Will replied thoughtfully. “Everyone assuming you’re going to think the worst of them when all you want to do is have a pleasant conversation. Speaking of, what can you tell me about myself based on my coffee?” The question caught Hannibal momentarily by surprise.

“Your- oh. Let me think a moment.” The doctor closed his eyes and inhaled, purposely avoiding the mingled scent of pastry. It took him several minutes for the world to fall silent around him; when it did, he began to speak. “You were not a fan of coffee before you tried the drink in your hands, and you do not stray into the unknown. You order it exactly as it is every time you come here.” His eyes opened; their gazes met as he continued to quietly deduce Will’s habits through what he could smell.

“You work too much, and your coffee reflects your commitment to what you perceive as your duty. A red eye. Caramel and Chocolate in equally potent amounts. Sugar and enough of a stimulant to keep you focused on the tasks you have, even when you are wearing thin. Although I’d guess you don’t normally rely on such things, the work load you mentioned has turned you into something of a devotee. How am I doing so far?”

Will laughed reluctantly. “Jesus, are you always this detailed when you play this game?” Hannibal shook his head.

“Normally, I stick to personality traits only. However with you… the rest comes easier. Would you like to explain to me exactly what it is you do?” Will took another sip from his coffee, giving himself the time he needed to arrange his thoughts.

“I should probably begin with what I teach,” he replied. “I work for the behavioral sciences division within the Bureau, lecturing others on the methods I use to analyze crime scenes. Some of what I am able to do can’t be taught, though. When violent crimes comes across a case they can’t solve, I’ll often be called into any new crime scenes so I can try to see what they’re missing.”

“And how do you do that?” Hannibal asked, intrigued. Will cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“I… have a knack, I guess you could say. A gift for being able to assume the position of anyone I choose to turn my focus on. I can see things others miss because of it.” Hannibal thought for a long moment before responding.

“What types of things do you see?” Will shrugged, keeping his eyes on his plate. 

“Motives. Behavioral patterns. The events of a crime; little details that are often overlooked because others focus on only evidence and not the mind of the person behind the violence. They don’t know how to see. I do.” 

“You are an empath.” The term wasn’t unfamiliar to the profiler, but he hated it nonetheless.

“Sure. Some call it that. I can go to a crime scene and see the awful things that other people did, and put the pieces together from the parts others aren’t able to discern.” Will’s voice had quieted; Hannibal glanced into his eyes to find them laced with distress.

“We do not need to speak about it,” he soothed. “It sounds like an uncomfortable gift to possess. I’ve often found that perception is a tool that is equally useful to those who require it, and harmful to the person who wields it.” Will nodded, relief so plain in his features that it pained Hannibal to see it.

“I don’t often make my appointments with the Bureau shrinks,” Will confessed. “They are always trying to pull the details of how I do what I do out of me, like I have a checklist I go through to do it. I don’t know how to explain to them that I don’t fully comprehend how it happens. It just… does.” Hannibal’s heart squeezed gently in his chest. _Those who speak with you want to analyze you more than they wish to help. How truly unfortunate._

“While professional curiosity is understandable, it should never come before the proper care of a patient,” he replied carefully. “It’s… distressing that the experience you have with those in my field has been so poorly managed.” Will ran a hand through his hair and drained the remainder of his coffee.

“Yeah. I tend to avoid talking about my work because of it. People just...”

“… have no way of understanding,” Hannibal finished for him. Will nodded. They sat quietly, both men lost momentarily in their thoughts. Will yawned and glanced at his watch, surprised to find that they’d been talking together for over an hour.

“Hey, I don’t really want to cut this short, but I’d better get going before I can’t function at all. I don’t want to take up your entire Saturday with anecdotes of my work life either.” Hannibal nodded and finished his coffee. Both men stood and prepared to leave before taking their plates to the counter. Without another word, they made their way out the door and into the bright winter sunlight. The air around them seemed to form a bubble, one that contained just the two of them. Hannibal lingered, relishing in the intimacy.

“This was great,” Will murmured as they turned to face one another on the cold sidewalk. “I can’t remember the last time I had such a pleasant morning.” Hannibal nodded, oddly reluctant to let the man out of his sight.

“I couldn’t agree more,” the doctor replied. Their eyes met briefly; Hannibal’s heart thumped with distress at the thought of Will’s departure. Gathering his courage, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and removed a business card, holding it out to the other man before he could stop himself. 

“Perhaps you’d like to do it again sometime.” Without hesitation, Will took the card; their fingers brushed, sending pleasant arcs of sensation down Hannibal’s arm.

“Yeah,” the profiler replied, happy surprise coloring his words. “Yeah, that would be great. Is this-” Hannibal nodded, gesturing for him to turn the card over.

“My office number is on the front, but this particular card has my cell number on the back. The number on which I will actually reply.” Will grinned, his eyes shining as brightly as the sun off the snowbanks lining the cold streets.

“You keep a card with your cell number on the back, just in case you meet someone interesting?” Hannibal flushed bright red.

“I find it best to be prepared,” he retorted, unable to keep a smile from his lips. “It seems, this once, it has paid off. Please feel free to reach out to me at any time, and if I do not respond promptly, I will as soon as I check my messages.” Will pocketed the card with a nod.

“Okay. That sounds great. Thanks again for the chat, Hannibal. It was great meeting you.” He held out his hand for the other man to shake; their palms came in contact, and the world went quiet around them. There was something supremely _right_ about the way Will’s hand felt in his own, as if they’d been waiting to touch his entire life. Hannibal held on for a moment longer than what he deemed polite before releasing the other man to his day.

“It was wonderful meeting you as well.” He hesitated a moment, watching Will’s face. “May I ask a favor of you?” Will slid his hands into the pockets of his coat, nodding his ascent.

“Sure. If it doesn’t require me staying awake for too much longer.” Hannibal took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“Can you-that is-” Will watched him struggle, his eyes gentle.

“Hey, it’s fine. Just ask.”

“Please,” Hannibal murmured, his voice almost lost to the line waiting to get inside the coffee shop. “Can you let me know that you’ve made it home? I know we just met, but you- you just seem so exhausted-” Something inside Will stretched and purred. _Protective. Worried about me._

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Okay. I’d be happy to.” Hannibal nodded, relieved. 

“Thank you. I know it seems trite-”

“No, I appreciate the concern. It’s been some times since someone fussed over my wellbeing. It’s… nice.” Will took a step back, turning slightly in the direction of the Bureau. “I’m going to head out, before I don’t have the energy to drive. I’ll let you know when I’ve arrived home.” Hannibal nodded.

“I understand. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Will.”

“Yeah, you too. Bye.” With a small wave, the two men set off in their separate directions, towards what remained of their day.


End file.
